


(love will) tear us apart again

by octoaliencowboy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bisexual Obi-Wan Kenobi, Divorce, Endgame Codywan, Gay CC-2224 | Cody, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, autistic korkie kryze, characters listed by order of appearance, damn these parents are ARGUING, diy king cody, im sorry, not polyamory and there will be NO cheating bisexual trope here thank you, what am i sorry for? youll have to guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoaliencowboy/pseuds/octoaliencowboy
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi is unhappy with his life. He wears the lifestyle he married into like an uncomfortable, ill-fitting coat, one that is steadily eating him alive. Slowly, he starts to realize he can do something about it, as he meets the perfect man and that causes more problems than it solves-- until it doesn't.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Korkie Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 21
Kudos: 125





	1. somebody_to_love_queen.mp3

**Author's Note:**

> i couldnt find any obitine divorce fics so i am being the change i want to see in the world. *THIS IS A SEPARATE BUT SIMILAR AU TO THE NEW PERSPECTIVE AU THERE WILL BE PARALLELS BUT ITS A DIFFERENT AU*
> 
> please tread carefully if like. parents arguing is difficult for you there will be a lot of it
> 
> title is from love will tear us apart by joy division
> 
> also: the working title for this fic is space marriage story yes i know its not actually in space and no i have not seen marriage story

“Hey Cody, there’s a guy standing in the flooring supplies aisle looking lost as hell, can you go see if he needs help?” 

Cody sighs, stepping back from the lumber he was putting away and turning to look at his coworker. “How lost?” He asks, and his coworker smirks. 

“On the verge of a breakdown, lost,” she says, that smirk never slipping. “Seems like your type. Very limp wrist, if you get what I mean.” 

“There’s no way not to get it,” Cody grumbles and dusts off his orange apron. “Alright, I’ll go rescue him. Flooring supplies aisle, you said?”

His coworker nods and he walks off, rounding the corner to where the supposedly lost limp wristed man is. As soon as he turns down the aisle, he stops in his tracks, seeing exactly what his coworker meant. Standing in the middle of the aisle is, indeed, a man, in approximately three layers of sweaters and corduroy pants, with very ginger hair and a matching almost-beard, and a pair of wooden frames perched on his nose. He’s looking at the shelves of mortar in plain distress, one arm curled around his torso and his other hand rubbing his jaw, elbows tucked in. 

Limp wristed, indeed. Definitely not their typical clientele.

Yeah, this man needs help. As Cody approaches, he notices the deep bags under the man’s eyes. 

“Hey, finding everything alright?” He asks, and the man jumps like a startled deer, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Uh,” the man clears his throat. “Not really, no. See, I’m looking for, er, mortar...” 

Cody blinks when he hears the man speak, definitely not expecting the scottish accent. He looks at the shelves the man was just staring at like they were causing him personal grief. “Well, you’re looking right at it.” 

The man huffs, waving his hands at the offending shelves. “Well I can see that much!” He snarks, “There are just-- so many different kinds! Why can’t they just make one kind, I don’t… this is too confusing.” 

“Well, it depends on what you need the mortar for,” Cody gently explains. “Different grades of mortar have different characteristics, like compressive strength, flexibility, bonding properties, etcetera. So the type you’ll need depends on the project.”

The man frowns. “The youtube tutorial didn’t mention different _kinds_ of mortar…” he mutters, and Cody puts his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight to one foot towards the man. 

“What’s the project?” he asks, and the man turns to look at him, seeming a little nervous. 

“It’s, er, I need to replace the bathroom floor tiles,” he says. “We have water damage, and…” 

Cody nods, looking back at the shelf and pointing. “If you’re laying tiles, then thinset would be best,” he says. “It’s a low grade but that doesn’t mean lower quality, it just has more adhesive and less power compression properties. Most people use it for tiles, both indoor and outdoor.” 

The man nods along, but he still looks a little spacey and Cody figures most of this is going over his head. “Right…” he says, “so…” he tentatively reaches a hand out towards the shelf, squinting at the labels, and Cody smiles when he hesitates and retracts his hand. 

“Here,” he reaches past the man to pull the recommended brand from the shelf and hold it out to him. “This should work.” 

“Oh, thank you,” the man breathes, plucking the product from his hand, holding it with both hands around the handle of the bucket. Cody notes how stiff he still seems, and nearly smacks himself when he realizes what the reason must be. 

“So, water damage, eh?” He tries to strike up some small talk, even though it’s really not his forte. “An old boyfriend of mine once found some really nasty water damage and mold under his sink. Nearly had to tear the whole bathroom up to fix it.” 

The man visibly relaxes as soon as Cody mentions the b-word, nodding. “Yes, well, hopefully we won’t find anything so extensive,” he gives a light laugh, and Cody’s smile widens. 

“Yeah,” he says, “So was the mortar all you needed, or is there anything else I can help you find?” 

“Ah,” the man transfers the bucket of mortar to hold it nestled against his hip like a baby so he can pull his phone out from his pocket, and that is when Cody notices the gold band wrapped around the ring finger of his left hand. Disappointment strikes him like a little sting of static electricity, but it’s really not that major. He looks back up at the man’s face as he unlocks his phone. “I also need to pick up grout, new tiles, and the tools to replace them…” he lets out a heavy breath. “It’s going to be expensive, isn’t it.” 

Cody winces in sympathy. “Yeah, I really can’t lie, it is. Especially if you want fancy tiles.” 

The man groans. “Fancy tiles,” he looks up at the ceiling. “Of course my wife had to decide she wanted the most expensive tile you had. I think she did it just to be petty.” 

_Wife_ ? Cody raises an eyebrow. _Oh, maybe he’s bi._

_Or in the closet_.

“Yeah?” he prompts, but the man sighs and shakes his head. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to…” he trails off, rubbing at his beginnings of a beard. “Could you help me find the rest of my shopping list? If it’s not too much trouble, I’m afraid I’m struggling to navigate this place.” 

“That is my job,” Cody nods off to the side. “Come on, let’s go get you a cart.” 

He can’t lie and say that this guy’s cluelessness isn’t at least a little endearing. Too bad he’s married, Cody’s coworker was right in that he is very much his type. Ah, well. 

They get a cart and the man drops the bucket of mortar in it with a grunt. Cody leads him over to the grout, the two of them making small talk along the way. The redheaded man is definitely better at it than Cody is. The more they talk the more the tension seems to lift from his shoulders, and Cody is glad. But by the time they get around to picking up the tools-- of which the man needs a lot, as he has told Cody he has literally none of the necessary equipment on hand already-- that tension has come back, magnifying with every price tag. 

“You’re not trying to upsell me here, are you?” The man asks only half-jokingly at one point as Cody hands him a hammer. 

“I’m a wage worker,” Cody cracks a grin. “I don’t care if you buy our most expensive hammer or not.” 

“Right,” the man chuckles lightly, but it sounds pinched. Cody glances down into the cart. 

“Honestly, at this point you might as well just pay someone else to replace the tiles for you.” 

This was obviously maybe the _one_ wrong thing to say. The man drops his head onto his hands curled around the handle of the shopping cart, looking like he just wants to lie down on the floor, with a pained groan. “No, god, don’t say that, please,” he practically whimpers, standing back up straight again like he’s spring loaded. He pushes his hands up under his glasses, partially dislodging them, and scrubs his eyes, dragging his hands down his face. “Christ, but you’re right, though. What the hell am I even doing, I don’t know how to replace tiles!” 

Cody puts the hammer back on the shelf, and the man keeps going, looking like he’s nearing his breaking point. 

“I’m just going to do it wrong and mess it all up and then we’re going to have to pay someone to come in and fix it and do it all over again _anyway_ and it’s just going to end up costing _more_ and I will never, ever live this down…” the man bemoans. “Satine will never let me live it down, even though she’s honestly right and we _should_ just pay someone else to do it that would be _perfectly reasonable_ considering I _don’t know what the feck I’m doing_ but I can’t raise the white flag now after I already swore I would do it because if she wins this argument then I will literally never have a single leg to stand on any other time it comes up but it’s not even the same but she’s going to insist it _is_ and--” 

He cuts himself off with a shaking breath, and Cody just stands there, really not sure what to do. “Uh,” he says, and the man looks at him, leaning heavily on the shopping cart, so plainly exhausted. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t mean to waste your time, really, but I-- I’m just going to have to put this all back. I’m just going to go home and tell my wife she was right, and…” 

“Now hold on a second,” Cody says, gesturing with his hands. “What argument is this exactly, and why would losing it be so bad?” 

The man looks off to the side. “It’s…” he sighs again. “Well, my wife and I are, fairly comfortable, financially speaking, but she grew up very rich and I grew up very poor so we have very different approaches to money. And her first thought is always to hire someone else to do, well, practically everything-- cook, clean, watch our child after school-- especially since she’s so busy with work. And I always say there’s no need to pay other people to do things we could easily do ourselves, not to mention spending large amounts of money at once always makes me nervous. But she doesn’t see the point in that at all, she thinks if you can afford to outsource that work, why wouldn't you? The back-and-forth has been going on for years, now, and… I just _need_ to be proven right.” 

He chuckles sardonically, running a hand back through his hair, and Cody’s eyes track the movement. “I know it’s awful and petty, but…” 

Cody shakes his head. “No, no I get it,” he says. “And I see where you’re coming from. Rich people just-- it sounds like she doesn’t really see how her privilege factors into this.”

“Thank you!” The man cries. “Exactly! It’s so frustrating!” 

It takes Cody a moment to pause and think about this. The idea occurs to him embarrassingly quickly, and it’s maybe not the best idea with the best motivations considering this guy is married, but after a good few seconds of considering, Cody thinks ‘fuck it’, and offers. “Look, how about this,” he starts, trying to sound casual and confident. “If you have your heart set on diy-ing this, I can help. You’ll still have to buy the tiles, but I can bring everything else-- I have my own equipment-- and show you how to replace them. That way you’ll be all set for any future tile incidents, minus the materials.” 

The man stares at him with wide eyes, and for a second Cody inwardly shrinks, realizing how presumptuous that must have been to offer to a complete stranger, but then the man’s face breaks out into a blinding relieved grin, and Cody’s unruly heart skips a beat. 

“Would you really?” The man breathes, all the tension cut out of his posture, and Cody nods. “Oh, thank you so much!”

He steps around the cart and grasps Cody’s hand in both of his own, and the first thing Cody notices is that they’re _cold_ , despite the many layers the man has on, and the second thing he notices is that they’re soft. “Thank you, er-- I just realized I don’t know your name…” The man’s smile turns sheepish as he continues to shake Cody’s hand, and Cody smirks. 

“I have a nametag, you know,” he says, and the man quickly glances down at the nametag pinned to his work apron and back up at his face. 

“So you do.” The man lets go of his hand and grasps his own together in front of him. “This is very kind of you, Cody.” He says, and Cody resists falling on the floor in response to hearing his name said with this man’s voice. This was a bad great idea. 

“It’s no trouble…” he trails off, and the man smiles. 

“Obi-Wan,” he introduces himself, and Cody tucks the name away in a corner of his brain for safe keeping. 

“Good to meet you, Obi-Wan,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan’s smile widens, and Cody notices, to his satisfaction and dread, that his cheeks take on a new shade of pink. 

This was a _bad_ great idea. 

* * *

  
  


When Cody first arrives on Saturday at the address Obi-Wan had given him, duffel of tools and materials slung over his shoulder, he immediately feels intimidated by the… _niceness_ of the townhouse. It’s big, and fancy, and he wonders if perhaps Obi-Wan had been downplaying just how _comfortable_ he and his wife are. But he walks up the steps anyway, feeling out of place in his dirty boots and sawdusty jeans, and rings the doorbell. 

He looks up at the townhouse, sandwiched in the row of them. It’s tall. He wonders if they own the whole thing.

It takes a few moments for him to get a response. He hears footsteps approaching on the other side of the door, and through the fancy glass he sees the vague impression in shapes and colours of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan opens the door and waves him in with an enthusiastic “Hello!” He still has those bags under his eyes-- if anything, Cody thinks they might be even darker.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Obi-Wan says as he leads him through their home. Cody tries not to look around like a tourist, but it’s a hard urge to resist. The whole place is clean to the brink of sterile, with modern furniture and few signs of actual _living_ , all while just reeking of wealth. Art hangs on the walls that Cody assumes was expensive, interspersed by typical impersonal, unspecific modern decor. He’s brought up some stairs and down a hallway to a closed door. Obi-Wan turns to him and makes a ‘shh’ sign, then knocks gently on the door. 

“C’min,” a small voice from inside calls, and Obi-Wan opens the door to reveal a child’s bedroom with a child inside. Cody waits in the hall as Obi-Wan goes in and approaches the little kid sitting on a large bean bag chair with a picture book in his lap. 

“Hi Korkie,” Obi-Wan says, sitting on the ground next to the kid. The kid, who Cody would guess is maybe four or five, looks like him, with the exact same shade of red hair and all. “What are you reading?”

“Borka again,” the kid replies in a quiet tone of voice, still looking down at the book. Obi-Wan smiles and nods. 

“Good choice,” he says. “So, Korkie, my friend is here now to help fix the bathroom, and it’s going to be very noisy while we’re working. Would you like to relocate to the living room, or the kitchen table?” 

The kid nods and stands from the beanbag chair, closing the book and holding it against his torso. “Can I have my markers?” 

“Of course,” Obi-Wan stands as well, and the kid walks out of the room. Though his eyes stay glued to the floor, he waves at Cody as he goes past. Obi-Wan follows, saying to Cody, “I’m just going to help him get set up, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

Then he turns the corner after the kid, and Cody just stands there, hovering in the doorway. He looks around the kids room. It’s tidy, and the sheets on the bed are made. It’s kind of big for a kid’s room, Cody thinks, but maybe he's meant to grow into it. Multiple shelves and bins along the wall suggest a copious amount of toys, and the bookshelf next to the bed is full. The floor is completely clear of toys or trinkets, but in the centre of the floor is a large round rug that looks like a cartoony planet earth as seen from space. 

Obi-Wan comes back, and Cody expects to be led further down the hall to the bathroom, but instead they go into the kids room, and Cody realizes that it has its own en-suite bathroom that was out of sight from the door. 

Cody tries and fails not to raise his eyebrows at a little kid having an en-suite bathroom, and Obi-Wan must notice, because he looks a little embarrassed about the excess for a moment. 

“Here we are,” he says, and Cody takes a look at the bathroom floor. Yeah, there is obvious water damage along the base of the bathtub, with cracks and gaps formed between the floor tiles. “So, first we have to pull out the old tiles, right?” He turns and looks to Cody for guidance, and Cody nods. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving Obi-Wan a quick glance up and down. “Uh, you might want to get changed into something more casual, though. It’s going to be hard labor, you know.” 

Obi-Wan looks down at himself, his knit sweater over his long-sleeve shirt and loose-fitting slacks, and then back up at Cody. “This is casual,” he says, and Cody thinks it would be mean to laugh, so he doesn’t. 

“I meant, like,” Cody says. “Jeans.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan chuckles. “I don’t own any denim, the texture doesn’t agree with me. These are the most casual clothes I have.” 

Cody nods slowly. “Alright then…” he says. “Well, let’s get started.” 

He sets down his duffel on the floor of the bathroom and opens it up, pulling out the tools they’ll need to remove the old tiles, and Obi-Wan pushes his sleeves up past his elbows. He hands him a spare pair of gloves and safety goggles, and Obi-Wan puts the goggles on over his glasses. Once his gloves are on as well Cody gives him a grout removal tool to start cutting the tiles out, pulling one of his own from the bag along with his own safety gear, and they get to work. 

Cody does have to show Obi-Wan how to do each step, but once he’s been given the instructions, and watched Cody do it a few times, he picks up on it fairly quickly. 

“You’re doing a good job,” Cody tells him once they’re almost done scraping out the grout, since some reassurance can’t hurt, and Obi-Wan turns his head and beams at him. 

“Because you’re here,” he says, Cody has to clear his throat and look away. 

Obi-Wan struggles a little more with actually removing the tiles, not seeming to be willing to do much more than simply tap the flat chisel with the hammer, yielding him little results. 

“You have to put some force into it,” Cody says. “Or it’s not going to come off.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan huffs, trying to wedge the flat chisel further under the tile. He’s just going to break it if he keeps that up. Cody shuffles over to crouch beside him. 

“Here,” he suppresses a sigh and leans in close. Obi-Wan stills, and Cody takes the hammer from him, wrapping his hand over Obi-Wan’s holding the chisel. “Hold still,” he says, as if Obi-Wan could get any more still, their heads practically crown to crown, and draws the hammer back to give a hard _WHACK_ to the chisel with the hammer, driving it hard under the tile and popping it up off the ground. Obi-Wan yelps at the sudden noise and movement, his hand jerking under Cody’s keeping it in place. “Like that.” 

“ _Ahem--_ I see,” Obi-Wan leans away, and Cody hands him back the hammer and goes back to his own corner to keep working. After that, Obi-Wan still doesn’t hit it as hard as Cody, but enough to actually make progress, even if it is a little slow. 

Eventually they get all the tiles out and put away to be properly disposed of, and Obi-Wan leaves to get the vacuum to clean the bare floor before they put down the thinset. Cody stands and stretches, leaning against the counter and taking a drink from the water bottle he stashed in his bag. He thinks about Obi-Wan wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, unbidden, and kicks himself. As if summoned by his thoughts, Obi-Wan reappears, armed with the vacuum cleaner. 

“Now _this_ part I know how to do,” he smirks as he plugs it in. 

Cody stands off to the side and watches as Obi-Wan efficiently vacuums the whole floor clear of dust and small debris. 

“We’ve been at it for some time, now,” Obi-Wan says once he’s finished. “What do you say we take a bit of a break?”

“Sure,” Cody nods, and brushes the dust off himself best as he can before Obi-Wan brings him down to the kitchen. 

It’s a nice kitchen. Big and open. Fancy, new appliances. Spotless countertops. The only traces of living are the breakfast dishes stacked in the sink, and the kid sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling in a large pad of paper with markers strewn over the table in front of him. “Hello, my dear,” Obi-Wan sweeps over and presses a kiss to his son’s round cheek. “I’m about to make some lunch for my guest, would you like some as well?”

“Yes, peas,” the kid smiles down at his drawing. Obi-Wan stands up straight and looks at Cody, who stands awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. “Do you like grilled cheese, Cody?” 

“Uh,” Cody waves, “you don’t have to make me lunch, that’s fine.”  
  
“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan smiles, already opening the fridge. “You are being such an incredible help, I have to return the favour somehow. Now, do you want yours made with caesar?” 

“Uh,” Cody repeats, putting his hands in his pockets. “Sure, I guess.” 

“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan takes out a bunch of different cheeses, caesar dressing, and butter. “You can have a seat if you’d like, this won’t take long.” 

“Right,” Cody shuffles over to the kitchen table and sits down across and diagonal from the kid, feeling odd about the big, fancy house. Obi-Wan moves around the kitchen naturally, like this is his natural habitat. Cody turns his gaze from the man and instead looks at the kid’s drawing. It’s hard to tell what he’s drawing, he hasn’t known many small children to have a perfect grasp on line and form, but the kid caps the marker in his hand and switches it out for a different colour, so it must have some purpose to it. Pretty soon the kitchen is filled with the sound of butter sizzling and melting on the cast iron skillet Obi-Wan put out on the stove. 

Cody shifts, propping his chin up on his knuckles. “So, uh,” he starts, looking around again, “What do you and your wife do, Obi-Wan?” 

Obi-Wan glances at him over his shoulder, his focus remaining on the stove as he puts the sandwiches on the pan. “I’m a professor at Columbia,” he says, “and my wife is a lawyer.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Cody sits up. “What do you teach?” _My money's on_ _English_ , he thinks. 

“English literature,” Obi-Wan replies, and Cody gives himself a self-satisfied nod. “What about you, do you do anything other than working at the Home Depot? Any hobbies?” 

“I’m a woodworker,” Cody says, “I build furniture and, uh, stuff.” He winces and looks down at the table, rubbing at the back of his neck. Damn this small talk.

“That sounds nifty,” Obi-Wan says. “Say, would you like something to drink? We have fresh lemonade.” 

“Sounds good,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan leaves the sandwiches sizzling in the skillet to get a glass pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and opens a cupboard. 

“Can I have some, daddy?” The kid asks, and Obi-Wan smiles. 

“Of course, dear.” He takes out a brightly coloured plastic cup and sets it down next to the larger glass he got for Cody. He pours out the lemonade and sets the two cups down on the table. Cody nods in thanks, and the kid immediately grabs his in both hands and gulps it down. Obi-Wan goes back to the stove. 

Soon the grilled cheeses are done, and Obi-Wan cuts them into triangles with a small smile and sets the two plates down for Cody and his kid.

“Thanks,” Cody says, pulling the plate closer to him, admiring the perfectly melted cheese. The kid beams and digs in. “You’re not having one?” Cody asks when he sees that Obi-Wan has only made two. 

“The skillet only fits two at a time,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m making mine now, you can go ahead and start eating.” 

Just as Obi-Wan finishes constructing his sandwich, they hear the front door opening and closing, and Obi-Wan perks up. A few moments later a woman walks into the kitchen, her sharp heels clacking loudly on the stone floor. Immediately she sets a sleek black briefcase down on the table and goes straight to Obi-Wan, and they exchange a quick kiss. Obi-Wan smiles at her. 

This can’t be anyone other than his wife. The woman goes to the kid next and hugs him tight, kissing him on top of his head. “Hello everyone,” she says, in a posh english accent. Then she looks up at Cody. “Hello,” she says to him with a small, cool smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you a friend of Obi’s?” 

She’s tall, made taller by her high heels. Everything about her is thin and angular, even her hair, the fine blonde strands pulled into a sharp updo. Her suit is all clean, pressed lines. She definitely looks the part of a new york lawyer.

“Uh, yeah-- yes. I’m Cody.” Cody says, and the woman shakes his hand. What did Obi-Wan say his wife’s name was?

“I’m Satine,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cody.” 

“He’s helping me with the bathroom tiles,” Obi-Wan pitches in, and Satine nods. 

“Ah, I see.” She says. “Yes, he insisted on doing it himself, no matter how much I insisted it wasn’t necessary.” Her laugh is high and light, and she ever so slightly leans a hip on the counter, looking down at the kid, who is still scribbling with intent. “Korkie, how was your morning?” 

“What?” The kid says quietly down at his paper and pauses his intentive scribbling. Satine sighs. 

“Don’t say ‘what’, that’s impolite. It’s ‘pardon’-- and how many times do I have to tell you to please look at me when I speak to you?” She scolds him, and Korkie quickly glances up at her before looking back down. 

“Pardon?” He corrects, and Satine sighs again. 

“Korkie…” She says with a tone of warning, and Obi-Wan looks away from the stove.

“Oh, leave him be, Satine, he’s alright.” He says, flipping the sandwich. Satine looks over at her husband, a slight frown on her face. 

“It’s rude,” she says. “To not look someone in the eye when you talk to them. We have to teach him _some_ manners.” 

“It’s not hurting anyone,” Obi-Wan asserts. Cody looks between them as the back-and-forth picks up over the kid’s head. 

“How am I supposed to know he’s listening if he won’t look at me when I’m speaking to him?” Satine insists, and Obi-Wan half-heartedly rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like it’s a set in stone rule, just get confirmation some other way. If he doesn’t like it then it’s not hard to make accommodations.”

Satine scoffs, putting a hand on her hip. “It always catches me by surprise that _you’re_ the one that’s too soft with him,” she frowns. “And _I_ always have to be the ‘bad guy’ just because I want our child to grow up with some sort of _discipline_.” 

“There’s a difference between discipline and punishment and just being downright unreasonable.” Obi-Wan snarks back. 

“I am not being unreasonable!” Satine snaps. “I don’t think it’s _unreasonable_ to expect some basic manners from our child! I can’t believe you, you know how frustrating it is to be labeled as hysterical just because I’m a woman who speaks her mind.” 

Obi-Wan turns away from the stove, pointing with the silicone flipper. “I never said you were hysterical and you know I never said that! I don’t see why you have to make yourself out to be a victim in every single situation, especially when--”

They’re interrupted by the sound of the kid dropping his marker on the table with a clatter and squinting his eyes closed, covering his ears with a whine. The arguing immediately stops, Satine and Obi-Wan looking at each other with startled expressions. Cody looks between them, trying not to grimace.

Satine leans down to stroke Korkie’s hair. “Sorry love,” she coos, and the kid hunches his little shoulders more. She straightens with a sigh and fixes the jacket of her suit. 

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” she says. “I was able to get out of the office earlier than I thought, but I still have quite a bit of work to do. See you all later, Cody, it was nice to meet you.” 

“Oh, do you want any lunch?” Obi-Wan asks her, gesturing to the stove. “I’m making grilled cheeses.” 

“No, I already ate.” She grabs her briefcase and walks out without looking at the rest of them, the sound of her heels on the stairs echoing through the house. Cody decides he doesn’t like her very much, and it’s not because he’s biased in any way at all. A moment passes, and then Obi-Wan turns off the stove and goes over to the kid’s side, bending down to be at his level. 

“I’m sorry, dear,” he says quietly. “Is it alright if I give you a hug?” 

It takes a second for the kid to peel his eyes open and nod, and when he does Obi-Wan immediately wraps his arms around him loosely, holding him close. Cody looks awkwardly down at the table. He hears Obi-Wan whisper, “your mother and I love you very much. We didn’t mean to fight in front of you. I’m sorry.” 

The kid makes a vague noise, and Obi-Wan lets him go. “Do you want to finish your lunch?” 

“Yeah,” the kid mumbles, picking up one of his half-eaten triangles and taking a small bite out of it. Obi-Wan smiles. 

“Good man,” he says, and goes back over to the stove. He transfers the sandwich that was sitting in the skillet onto a plate. The bread is a little more toasted than Cody thinks Obi-Wan probably wanted it to be. 

He sits down at the end of the table, and they eat in silence. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Obi-Wan says when they’re back upstairs and putting down the thinset. Cody hums in questioning and looks up at him, but Obi-Wan is resolutely looking down at the mortar he’s smoothing out. “Satine and I arguing like that, right in front of both you and Korkie… I’m sorry. That was very embarrassing.” 

“It’s alright.” Cody says. “I mean, it was pretty awkward, but it’s fine.” 

Obi-Wan looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. They put the mortar down in silence. 

“Honestly,” Obi-Wan says as they put the tiles in, putting the spacers in between each one and using the level to make sure they’re not wonky. “This is a lot easier than I was afraid it was going to be. I’m thankful for your help, of course, very much so, but I feel a little silly for freaking out about it so much.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cody says. “It was important to you that you did this right, so it makes sense to be stressed about it. And I’m happy to help, honestly.” 

“I’ve never been good at this sort of thing,” Obi-Wan admits. “You know… quote-unquote macho manly things. I can’t even change a tire.” 

“You should probably learn how to change a tire,” Cody deadpans, and Obi-Wan laughs. 

“Will you teach me that, too?” 

“Someone is going to have to,” Cody smirks. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looks right at him, then down at the tiles and smiles. “Doing such a favour for someone who’s honestly a complete stranger-- you’re a good man, Cody.” 

“Not really complete strangers anymore,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan gives a quick laugh. 

“Yes,” he repeats. “Really, I don’t know how I’ll repay you for this.” 

Cody reaches for the next tile and carefully inserts it in the row. “Why don’t you just buy me a beer and we’ll call it even?” He grins, and at that Obi-Wan _really_ laughs. 

“It’s a date, then.” The man says, and Cody smothers a cough. 

Really, he has a feeling he should probably be running for the hills right now. Running far away from this fancy house and it’s dysfunctional inhabitants. But there’s just something about the way that Obi-Wan adjusts his glasses and his kind smile and his warm eyes that’s… drawing Cody in. 

And he doesn’t really feel like running, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. thoughts?????


	2. alligator_tegan_and_sara.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more divorce au! we r chugging along. also just saying this one isnt rlly gonna have a set update schedule new chapters will just. come whenever they do sorry lol
> 
> also tysm to all the comments on the first chapter!! very cool that ppl are intrigued by this lol

“ _ Hello, Obi-Wan…” _

_ “Qui-Gon! It’s good to hear from you, it’s been so long. How are you?”  _

_ “I— I’m sorry, I need to ask you something.” _

_ “Yes, what is? Are you alright? You sound unwell.”  _

_ “The… the money has run out.” _

_ “What?”  _

_ “Obi-Wan, I’m completely broke. I need…” _

  
  
  


Obi-Wan draws himself out of the memory as he pulls up to the address he’d been given, parking on the street in front of the unfamiliar house. He sighs as he turns the car off, climbing out and walking up the cracked path towards the house. He goes up to the front door and rings the doorbell, waiting in the warm spring air with light jitters. He hears a commotion inside, and then the door is opened by an older man with a bent back and a lopsided-- probably due to a past stroke-- kind-looking face.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan says with a smile. “I’m here to pick up Anakin.” 

“Ah,” the man nods. “You must be the brother. Well, come on in, I’ll go let the boys know you’re here.” He waves Obi-Wan in with a smile. Obi-Wan follows him in, feeling many pairs of eyes peering at him from around corners. “Here, you can wait in the kitchen.” 

The man points Obi-Wan to the kitchen and limps off in the other direction down the hall, and Obi-Wan goes in only to stop in his tracks when he spots the man leaning against the kitchen counter with a mug in his hand and a matching surprised expression on his face. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan blinks, a smile forming on his face. Cody lowers his mug. 

“Uh, hey Obi-Wan,” he says, “I don’t know how to ask this without sounding rude, but, what are you doing in my house?” 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan laughs. “I’m here to pick up my little brother, Anakin. He was visiting his new school friend here, I believe.”    
  
“Ah,” Cody nods. “That would be Rex, my little brother. Small world, huh?” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan smiles, brushing back a stray strand of hair. Cody clears his throat and looks around, and Obi-Wan internally droops a little, hoping he hasn’t made the man uncomfortable by suddenly, randomly appearing in his home. 

“So, uh,” Cody starts, “how are those tiles working out for you?”    
  
“Very well, thank you,” Obi-Wan says, unable to help finding his awkwardness a little endearing. He shuffles a little in place. “Erm, I was wondering if, were you serious about that drink? Because I would quite like to enjoy your company again.”

Cody’s eyes widen fractionally, and he nods again. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that too.”    
  
“Splendid,” Obi-Wan says just as two young teens come bursting into the kitchen from the doorway on Cody’s end, talking and laughing. The taller of the two comes right up to Obi-Wan, grinning deviously, and punches him on the shoulder. 

“Hey Obi- _ Dork _ ,” the fourteen year old laughs, and Obi-Wan rubs his shoulder and sighs. 

“Good to see you too, Anakin.” 

Anakin looks back at his friend, still grinning widely. “Rex, this is my brother Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, this is my best friend Rex!” 

The other kid that had come in, Rex, waves casually at him, and Obi-Wan returns it. “Good to meet you, Rex,” he says. The family resemblance between Rex and Cody is strong-- he looks like someone made a photocopy of Cody and then made his hair blonde instead of black. He looks back at Anakin. “Well, come along, Anakin, let’s get going.”

“Aw,” Anakin whines down at him (it’s absolutely not fair that the kid is already taller than him). “Can’t we stay a little longer?” 

“No,” Obi-Wan says. “Not unless you want to get yourself home. I have to get back and make dinner.” 

“Fine,” Anakin groans, drawing the word out dramatically. “See ya at school, Rex.” He waves goodbye to his friend, and Rex waves back. 

“Good to see you again, Obi-Wan,” Cody says, and Obi-Wan casts him a quick smile. 

“Yes, a pleasant surprise indeed,” he says. “Goodbye, now.” 

“Bye everyone!” Anakin calls as they leave the house. 

They get into the car and Obi-Wan checks his mirrors before starting up the car and pulling away from the curb. As soon as the house is out of sight, the energy leaches from Anakin, and he slouches back against the passenger seat. 

“Can I have dinner at your place?” He asks, looking down and fiddling with his prosthetic, and Obi-Wan glances over at him when they get to a stop sign. 

“Of course,” he says, “you’re welcome any time. Is Qui-Gon alright with you being out later than expected?” 

Anakin leans his elbow on the door and rests cheek on his palm. “Qui-Gon won’t mind,” he says in a dejected way that has Obi-Wan’s face pinching with concern. But Anakin doesn’t respond well to prying, so he doesn’t ask any more questions, just drives the kid back to his own house instead of dropping him off at Qui-Gon’s. 

Once inside, Anakin kicks his shoes off, leaving them where they fell instead of putting them away on the shoe rack, and dumps his windbreaker on the bench instead of hanging it up. Obi-Wan sighs, but doesn’t bother pestering him about it— this house could do with a splash of chaos or two. 

“Alright,” Anakin’s face splits in a devilish smile. “Where’s my nephew?” he makes evil little grabby hands, and Obi-Wan chuckles. 

“Probably up in his room,” he says, hanging up his coat. “Please don’t pester him past his limits.” 

Anakin makes a  _ pshh _ noise. “Duh,” he says, and dashes up the stairs. Satine is probably up in her office, he swears that woman never stops working. Obi-Wan goes straight into the kitchen and washes his hands before putting on his favourite apron and grabbing his Golden Girls cookbook from the row of cookbooks. 

It’s not until he’s halfway through peeling the potatoes that he hears faint laughter getting louder, and stomping down the stairs. A few moments later Anakin appears, racing around the corner with Korkie on his back. For a second Obi-Wan’s heartrate spikes in alarm, but then he sees that Korkie is giggling and shrieking excitedly, clinging tight as Anakin spins around in circles. Obi-Wan breathes a sigh of relief and goes back to the potatoes. The two kids run and slide around to the living room on the other side of the wall, out of sight but hardly out of earshot, and then wheel back around into the kitchen. 

Anakin slides to a stop by the table, panting. “Hey Obi-Wan,” he grins, “watcha making?”

Obi-Wan looks up from where he’s struggling with the potato peeler. “Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, and steamed veggies,” he says, and Anakin whistles. 

“F— heck yeah,” he says, and Obi-Wan huffs a laugh at the catch.

“Can we watch?” Korkie asks, his chin propped on Anakin’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan nods. 

“Yes, of course,” he says. Anakin puts Korkie down, and the child climbs up one of the chairs at the kitchen table, sitting and watching Obi-Wan peel potatoes intently. Anakin sits next to him and watches with matching intensity. 

Obi-Wan drops the potato he’s working on in the sink for what feels like the tenth time. “ _ Jesus _ ,” he grumbles to himself, picking the potato back up. 

“Are you okay, daddy?” Korkie asks, and Obi-Wan sighs. 

“Just tired, dear.” He gives a weary smile. 

  
  
  


_ “Who are you?”  _

_ “I’m Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon may have told you about me.”  _

_ “Uh… no. I don’t know you.”  _

_ “Oh. I see.”  _

  
  
  


Partway through making the sauce, Korkie seems to have had enough of people time and leaves to go back up to his room, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in the kitchen. Anakin whistles and looks at something on his phone while Obi-Wan whisks away at the stove. 

“So, how is everything going at school?” Obi-Wan asks, and Anakin grunts. “Classes going well?” Anakin grunts again. “So you made a new friend-- that’s pretty nice.” 

Anakin looks up over at him. “Do you have a point?” He asks, not  _ entirely  _ frustratedly, and Obi-Wan pauses, mouth pinching in thought. 

“You seem down, lately,” He eventually says, glancing back over at Anakin over his shoulder. Anakin is looking down at the table. “Is there something bothering you?”

Anakin doesn’t say anything for a minute.

“I dunno,” the teen shrugs. “I guess… me and Qui-Gon have been clashing a lot lately.”

“Over what?”   
  
“I dunno,” Anakin repeats. “Kind of everything. But also, like, nothing? It’s-- I dunno.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan hums. “I understand the feeling.” 

“Whad’ya mean?” 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Ugh,” Anakin groans, “Anyways, I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

Obi-Wan nods. “That’s fair,” he says. “Dinner is almost ready, anyhow. Will you please set the table?” 

“ _ Ugh _ ,” Anakin groans again, far more dramatically, and flops out of his seat. “ _ Fine _ .”

He sets out the placemats and cutlery while Obi-Wan finishes up the mashed potatoes. Before he plates everything, he puts everything on simmer and goes upstairs. He goes into Korkie’s room to tell him dinner is ready, and the kid immediately drops his toy and takes off running. He goes up another floor, and knocks on the door to Satine’s office. 

“Yes?” He hears her call from inside, and he opens the door to see his wife working away at her desk, looking between several piles of papers and documents and typing something on her computer. 

“Dinner is ready,” He says, and Satine’s eyes remained glued to her work. 

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” she says absently, and Obi-Wan crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Why don’t you come down now?” He asks, and Satine huffs like he just asked a ridiculous question. 

“I’m busy, Obi,” She finally looks up and gestures to the files stacked on her desk. “I have a lot of work to do.” 

“It’s a sunday,” Obi-Wan says. “Can’t you take off  _ one _ day a week?” 

“Not  _ this _ week,” Satine taps a document with a finely manicured nail. “We’re in the middle of a huge case, everyone is putting in overtime for this. I barely even have time to have this conversation.” 

Obi-Wan sighs. “Alright,” he relents as she starts typing again, and her work phone starts ringing. “Would you like me to bring up a plate for you?” 

Satine nods yes and mouths  _ thank you _ as she answers the call, and Obi-Wan softly closes the door on his way out. 

Downstairs, Anakin and Korkie are both waiting eagerly in their seats at the table, and they watch intently as Obi-Wan dishes out the food. “You two can start eating,” he says, picking up a third plate. “Satine is going to take dinner up in her office.” 

“Okey,” Korkie says, mouth already full of mashed potato, and Anakin shrugs, looking far from disappointed. He loads the plate up and also pours out a glass of wine-- dealing with the people she works with, he’s sure she’ll be glad for it-- and brings the dishes upstairs while the kids eat. 

He knocks softly on the door, conscious of the fact that she’s probably still on the phone, and pushes the door open, creeping inside. Sure enough, Satine is still on the phone, leaning a tired elbow on her desk, a pinched look on her face. Obi-Wan walks over and gently sets the plate and the glass down with a smile, and Satine points to the phone and rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out. Obi-Wan gives a laugh that’s all air in response, and Satine picks up the wine glass with a grateful nod. 

“Yes, of course,” she says to the person on the line, and Obi-Wan starts to back away to leave her to her work. “Yes, I have the statements right here, I already faxed them to you this morning…” 

Obi-Wan shuts the door behind him and goes back downstairs to where the kids are eating. He reenters the kitchen just as Anakin shovels the last meatball on his plate into his mouth, and Obi-Wan blinks. 

“It’sh relly good, Obi-Wan!” The teen says around his mouthful of food, and Obi-Wan sighs. 

“You’re finished already?” He looks at Anakin’s plate that the boy is currently scraping clean of mashed potatoes, and Anakin nods. “What the heck is Qui-Gon feeding you?” 

Anakin takes a long drink of water to wash the meal down. “Organic vegan crap horse food,” he says as he sets the glass back down, and Obi-Wan snorts. 

“Would you like seconds, then?” 

“ _ Yes _ , please,” Anakin says, already eyeing the meatballs still on the stove, and Obi-Wan chuckles seeing him practically drool onto his placemat. He takes Anakin’s plate and scoops a slightly smaller second helping of everything onto it, and sets it back down on the table in front of the eager growing teen. Anakin digs into his seconds wholeheartedly while Obi-Wan sits down with his first helping. 

It’s a little cool by now, but that’s alright. Korkie gets potato on his face, and Obi-Wan reaches over across the table to wipe it off with a napkin.

After dinner Obi-Wan puts the dishes away and cleans the kitchen while Korkie and Anakin go watch tv-- with a reminder from Obi-Wan to Anakin to keep it age appropriate, to which Anakin responded with a scoff and a smirk, which Obi-Wan hopes meant  _ yes of course Obi-Wan, whatever you say _ . 

But when the kitchen is clean Obi-Wan dries his hands and goes over to the tv room, where they are indeed watching Peppa pig on the netflix. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, poking his head into the room, “is there a time that you need to be home by?” 

“Ugh,” Anakin looks over at the clock. “I don’t know, but probably soon.” 

“Aw,” Korkie says, nudging Anakin’s leg with his foot. “You’re leaving already?” 

“Yeah,” Anakin sighs, and reaches over to ruffle the kid’s hair, to which Korkie squawks and swats at his hands. “Sorry, kid.” He stands from the couch, reaching over for the remote and pausing the tv. 

“Would you like me to drive you home now?” Obi-Wan asks, and Anakin shrugs, stretching. 

“I guess, yeah.” 

Obi-Wan nods, closing his eyes for a moment. Christ, but he’s tired. “Alright. Korkie, no more tv, it’s going to be your bed time soon.” 

“Okay,” the small child pouts. Obi-Wan turns off the tv, and Anakin shuffles out of the room. Korkie also leaves, going upstairs, and Obi-Wan follows Anakin up to the front door.

  
  
  


_ “Sick baby, bro.”  _

_ “Er, thank you?”  _

_ “Can I hold him?” _

  
  
  


Obi-Wan finds Anakin in the front foyer leaning against the wall and pulling his shoes on with a frown. “Is everything alright?” He asks, and Anakin sighs. 

“Fine,” he says. “Just… I don’t know.” 

Obi-Wan puts a hand on his shoulder, and Anakin looks up from the floor. “That’s fine,” he says, “If ever you want to talk, or just need somewhere to escape for a while, you know you can always come here.” 

“Yeah,” Anakin looks around at the big house, something which he has always expressed as novel, and one side of his mouth twitches up in a smile. “I know. You remind me all the time.” 

“Only because I think you could do with a reminder,” Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows at him, and goes to put his own shoes on and pull on a coat, checking to make sure his keys are in his pocket. Behind him, Anakin huffs a laugh, and when he turns back around, Obi-Wan sees his brother (?) has taken on a slightly mistier expression. 

“Thanks, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says before Obi-Wan can ask what’s wrong, and Obi-Wan tilts his head. “For, like, man I don’t know. Everything.”

Reaching over to put an arm around Anakin’s shoulders, Obi-Wan smiles. “Of course,” he says. “You can come to me for anything.”    
  
“Yeah, I know,” Anakin repeats, then his gaze shifts a little out of focus, like he’s deep in thought. They go out to the car. 

They drive to Qui-Gon’s condo in silence. When Obi-Wan pulls into the visitor’s parking and turns the car off, Anakin turns and looks at him in mild surprise. “You’re coming up?” He asks, and Obi-Wan shrugs. 

“I’m just going to pop in and say hello,” he says. They get out of the car and take the elevator upstairs. 

“I’m back,” Anakin calls as he opens the door to the unit and kicks his shoes off, Obi-Wan following him inside. Qui-Gon emerges from the office at the back of the unit, and from across the room Obi-Wan quickly examines his ex-foster father. 

He’s wearing sandals inside, for one thing, and his clothes-- an open hawaiian shirt over a sweat stained wifebeater and cargo shorts-- are wrinkled and look like they need to be washed. His hair is grayer than the last time Obi-Wan saw him. The tall man pauses for just a second when he spots him, then unfreezes and keeps walking towards them.

“Hey buddy,” he says to Anakin. “Did you have fun at Rex’s?” 

“Yeah,” Anakin says vaguely and goes right to his room, closing the door behind him. Leaving Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon alone in the kitchen. 

  
  
  


_ “I can’t believe this. Telling me you wouldn’t come to the wedding even if you weren’t sick was one thing, sure it stung not having you there but I could live with it-- but the fact that your new accessory, sorry,  _ adopted child _ , didn’t even know I exist at all?”  _

_ “That’s not fair, Obi-Wan.”  _

_ “No, christ Satine was right, you really don’t think of anyone but yourself...” _

  
  
  


“Hello,” Obi-Wan says, trying not to sound as awkward as he feels. “How are you?” 

“Fine,” Qui-Gon says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “How are you? How’s the kid?” 

“I am well,” Obi-Wan says, “and so is Korkie. He’s started kindergarten now, if you remember.” Qui-Gon makes a humming noise and nods, and Obi-Wan clears his throat. They kind of just stand there for a minute while Obi-Wan lingers, dithering on whether or not he should stay and have this conversation or just go. Qui-Gon doesn’t say anything either, looking around. They never really knew how to communicate, but it’s so much worse now. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Qui-Gon nods into the fridge as he opens it and pulls out a beer. Obi-Wan shakes his head, and Qui-Gon shrugs.

Obi-Wan sighs, looking around. The floors need to be swept quite badly. Well, best to just get right to it. “Look, Qui-Gon, I know recovery has been difficult, but…” He starts, and Qui-Gon peers curiously at him. “It’s been a good few years, now, and Satine and I think it’s time you started being more financially independent again. We can’t pay your bills forever. I’m not saying we’re just going to abruptly cut you off completely, maybe start small, like the groceries? You could try maybe getting just a part time job, or going on unemployment?” 

Qui-Gon crosses his arms. “You and Satine think, or Satine thinks?” 

“What does that mean,” Obi-Wan says, technically it is a question but it doesn’t sound like one.

“I’m just saying, anytime that woman says anything you just absorb it like a sponge and regurgitate it. Do you even think for yourself anymore?” Qui-Gon raises an eyebrow in mild derision.

Obi-Wan scoffs in aggravation. “Jesus christ, Qui-Gon, Satine isn’t some evil mind-controlling witch, she is my wife and I love her very much-- you don’t  _ have _ to  _ like  _ her, but could you at least just have a bit of basic respect for her?” 

“Maybe when you have some respect for yourself, then I will. I still can’t figure out why the hell you married her.” 

“Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?” Obi-Wan sighs and rubs his forehead. “Just-- I think it’s worth considering.” 

“I will consider it,” Qui-Gon says, deflating a little. He leans back against the counter and takes a sip of his beer. “How are you, Obi-Wan, really?” His face seems to soften, and Obi-Wan shifts in place. 

“I’m alright, really Qui-Gon.” He lies. “Everything is just fine.”

Qui-Gon gives him a look that says he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press the issue. 

“It’s late,” Obi-Wan says without looking at the clock. “I should go.” 

“I guess so,” Qui-Gon says. There’s an odd look on his face, and Obi-Wan doesn’t want to try and parse it out. He says goodbye, turns, and leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin loves being the cool fun uncle 
> 
> first attempt at like. actually writing Qui-Gon! thoughts??

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @octoaliencowboy come yell at meeeee


End file.
